need some prompting behind the mask
by Domenic
Summary: A series of prompts on that masked revolutionary leader, Amon. story six: Amon is an agent working for Koh the Face Stealer. He wears a mask because he doesn't have a face.
1. it's systematic

Title: need some prompting behind the mask

story one: It's systematic

Summary/Prompt: A series of prompts on that masked revolutionary leader, Amon. story one: Amon/The Lieutenant. To The Lieutenant, it's systematic.

A/N: Prompts from the AtLOK meme on the ficbending livejournal community. Crossposted from my tumblr (fannishcodex) and livejournal (greedyslayer) accounts. Since these guys have had little screentime, these are just my impressions and theories on them inspired by those impressions. And this turned out more about how Amon and the Lieutenant are comfortable with each other, in actions and words. Hope you enjoy! I would really appreciate feedback, thanks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Avatar.

The Lieutenant was loyal, no doubt—but still, he wasn't sure if he would ever fully understand Amon.

"You have all these plans," he commented one morning after bringing Amon the day's paper.

In response, Amon had not looked up from the paper. He simply gestured to the breakfast tray the maid had brought in, silently offering his Lieutenant a bite. And just said, "Of course."

Accepting the offer and grabbing a dumpling, the Lieutenant leaned against his leader's desk, glancing at the scattered documents. It was a mess of intelligence reports, cutouts from older newspapers, alchemical formulas, budget plans, diagrams of the body's chi points, copies of ancient texts.

"Too many," the Lieutenant clarified as he pulled one formula sheet closer, careful to only use the hand that hadn't touched food; Amon may scatter his papers about, but he avoided stains. "I don't know how you keep track of them all."

"By remembering they're all for one goal." Amon flipped a page, still focused on the newspaper, holding it in front of his face as if it wasn't already covered by a mask.

"Then why not one plan?"

"And should that plan fail?" Another page flipped. "I rather have several points of attack. Not to mention, there is the Problem's complexity."

"Complexity?" The Lieutenant echoed, his brow furrowing at the formula in hand, before finally letting it drop. He knew his engineering, electricity; he personally had little interest in Amon's alchemy. (Even if Amon himself shared in his interests in engineering and electricity, always respectful of his kali sticks and their portable generator.)

Amon lifted up the formula his Lieutenant had dropped, holding it by one corner tip. Still, the newspaper blocked his face.

"The Problem is so vast that there are several different ways to remedy it. This, for example—"

"_Has_ that potion suppressed anyone's bending longer—?"

"Longer, yes, but nothing permanent." The Lieutenant arched his brow, and either Amon somehow noticed it from behind the newspaper or predicted it, for he said, "Not including the subjects who died, though casualties were less this time. I'l have to revise the equation again, not to mention restock on supplies."

Amon put the potion formula down, and lifted one of the copies of ancient text. It was in a dialect so old, it was gibberish to the Lieutenant. "And then there's this, seeing if there's any way to duplicate Avatar Aang's defeat of Lord Ozai on a grander scale—"

Amon put that sheet down, and finally laid his newspaper flat on the desk, revealing his masked face. He tapped on one story, its headline blazing. "—or simple execution."

"Isn't the 'simple' answer the most advantageous one?"

Taking the tray's pot, Amon poured his Lieutenant tea.

"It depends on the context. And though the context shifts just as easily as the wind, for now it's centered, calm, and clear enough. A number of them can be killed, even the current Avatar, but to kill them all? If a possibility at all, it's only as a last resort." Amon handed the Lieutenant his tea. "They comprise enough of the world's population where it would be more harmful than good to extinguish them all." Folding up the newspaper, Amon shifted in his chair, staring out the half-curtained window. "And besides, they cannot help but be born with bending. They deserve a cure for their ailment."

The Lieutenant drank his tea. To him, it was all systematic, the way Amon thought, but still a labyrinth of possibility and contemplation in the other man's mind, too tangled and dense for him to crack.

Still, he felt a new satisfaction, a new clarity. It was probably for the best that he couldn't read everything about his leader.

It was the Lieutenant's turn to pour Amon's tea. He tapped loudly against the tray. "Don't skip breakfast again."

"I make no promises," Amon murmured, picking up his formula and beginning to recalculate it. "Meet me in the labs in an hour, I'll have the list of supplies and criteria for new test subjects for you then."

The Lieutenant left, knowing there was no chance in hell his leader would even fathom feeding himself in front of company.

A/N: I think there are many ways someone would try to end bending, and I have very particular ideas about Amon.

Yes, 'make no promises' is a reference to Jinora (and a reference to another Amon-centric AtLOK plotbunny I might draft one day).


	2. penguin sledding, take two

Title: need some prompting behind the mask

story two: penguin sledding, take two

Summary/Prompt: A series of prompts on that masked revolutionary leader, Amon. story two: Korra takes anyone penguin sledding. It can be Mako, Bolin, Asami, **hell it can even be Amon**. Make it hilarious and cute if that's how you wanna play it.

A/N: NO LEAKED EPISODE 4 SPOILERS. Not until the episode airs! With what little material's available, characterization based on impressions and elaborations on those impressions. Also includes some theorizing with character backstory. Original prompt and fic posting here at the ficbending livejournal community. So far I'm gonna try to post the stories in this collection in original posting order done for the ficbending community.

penguin sledding, take two

Amon stared at the photos of the current Avatar. He lingered on the snapshot of her on that polarbeardog. As quick as a sudden shift in air, his mind went back to when he was young and foolish and weak and not Amon.

###

_years ago_

The adolescent decided being devoured right now by some beast was vastly preferable to freezing out in the cold. It would be quick.

He made not a sound as a large paw pinned him down and applied pressure to his cracked ribs, threaten to tear through cloth and bandaging. The white maw lowered, and...began to lap at his face, above the scarf that covered his mouth and nose.

"Naga, you're gonna smoosh him!" Some girl shrieked.

The older boy blinked as a small Water Tribe girl ran up and tugged on the beast's ears. It removed its paw and switched its licking to her. It was then the adolescent realized it was a polarbeardog.

"Hi, I'm Korra and this is Naga, she's real friendly, she just gets excited about new people—!"

"Has she...'smooshed,' strangers before?" The boy asked as he gingerly sat up, readjusting the scarf around the lower half of his face and the hood on his head.

Korra stared at him, then laughed again. "Nah, but she's so big, we gotta be careful!"

The boy felt some amusement as the girl rushed forward and tugged his arm, exaggeratedly heaving as she tried to pull him up.

"So what's your name?"

Considering, he finally decided to lie. "Li."

###

"Naga and I are running away," the girl had declared, standing as tall as possible and puffing out her chest.

Li gave a mental shrug. He didn't feel like talking the child into taking him back to her village right now. After washing ashore on some ice float and abandoning the broken pieces of ship that had brought him there, and then barely surviving as he started his trek through the snow, the adolescent's energy was still less than desirable.

Korra did lead him to a cave she'd picked as hers and Naga's hideout.

"I got some fish we can share," she said eagerly, shuffling around in a large bag hanging from Naga's saddle, her back to Li.

Scanning the cave quickly, Li took some twigs from a pile of wood the girl had apparently gathered, making him admit the child had put some forethought into running away. He then grabbed the adequate stones, and sparked a fire to life.

When Korra whirled around with her fish and caught sight of the fire, she lit up as much as the blaze. "Ooh, cool, you're a firebender too!"

Li blinked at the girl. "No," and he held up the stone, "I started the fire with this."

Her brow furrowed. "How can Earthbenders—?" and then it was Korra's turn to blink. (And the adolescent idly theorized that an Earthbender probably could start a fire by striking stones the right way with their bending, but that was the extent of it, there was no way they could manipulate the fire as well as an actual Firebender.) Then the girl perked up. "Oh, you start fires like my Papa!"

Then she looked around the cave, curious, as Li carefully watched her and mulled over what she just said, and how she said it. "Where'd you get the firewood?"

Li blinked at her, again. He silently pointed to the woodpile. Had that been here before, and she never noticed?

Immediately the child frowned, even stamping her feet as her little fists balled up around the fish tails. "No, those were my swords!"

Li was at a total loss. He finally decided to continue to humor the child. "...All of them?"

"Some of them were knives. One was a staff," snapped the girl.

"You weren't going to use any of them to cook your fish?"

"Don't need them!" Korra pouted, then demonstrated. Li's eyes widened as the fish went ablaze in her hands—not at the act, but at how fast and wild the fire was, approaching her too closely—

The adolescent lunged forward as the girl yelped. Kneeling down, he grabbed her wrists, moving them down from her hair and face. She waved her hands around in his grasp, and the fire disappeared. The burnt fish had fallen into the bent crook of Li's arms, balanced precariously.

Korra sucked on a clearly singed hand, glaring at Li as if it was his fault. Then the child said, slight drool still coming down her mouth, "I cooked 'em better last time."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

Li said nothing more, just let go of her wrists. He then slowly lowered himself to a sitting position, his legs outstretched, and carefully shifted the fish from the crook of his arms to his lap.

"Can you find a clean, flat stone for the food?"

The girl made a bending gesture, and a suitably flat and clean stone swept toward them. Li knew what _that_ meant, but made no comment.

Replacing the fish from his lap to the stone, the older boy closely examined them. There seemed to be no point in gutting them, they could just be eaten as is.

He arched a brow as the girl did just that, picking up a fish and crunching down on its head. She threw another to Naga and passed one to Li.

Li ate quietly and at a neutral speed while the girl chewed noisily and talked in between or during mouthfuls of food, her mood lightening.

"So, are you an earthbender, or a waterbender?"

"Neither."

The child's brow furrowed, she chewed her latest bite more slowly. "Then what are you?"

Li arched his brow again. "A nonbender," he said slowly, thinking it should be obvious.

"I figured, but are you Water Tribe—ooh, northern Water Tribe? Or are you Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation—?"

The older boy started to feel uncomfortable. "Sea folk, if anything," he conceded. "I was born on a ship, and have lived on many of them."

Korra's eyes widened, her smile beaming. "You're a pirate!"

Li took a larger bite than he would've normally deemed acceptable, and chewed it far slower than was necessary.

###

Eventually Korra led Li back to her home. When he first caught a glimpse, it reminded him more of a military compound, especially the guardtowers.

The girl stopped Naga suddenly, and Li stiffened, trying not to fall off the beast.

The girl remained silent and still, and Li almost asked her what was wrong, before she finally twisted in her seat and aksed-slash-demanded in a rush, "Wannagopenguinsleddingwithme?"

Li found her grin rather manic.

"...How big are your penguins?"

"Big enough for you, don't worry!"

"...Right."

Taking that as consent, the girl cheered and turned Naga away from the compound.

###

"Li, c'mon, let's ride 'em now, you can pet 'em more later!" Korra whined, her arms flailing as the older boy gently petted the penguins that had come for their bait (he found the gesture and the animals' response oddly relaxing).

He quietly stood up and paid attention to the girl's instructions.

Then they were off on their penguins.

Li heard the girl whoop and holler excitedly over the rush of wind, the pounding and delighted howling of her beast as it raced with them. The only experience he could compare this too was driving a Satomobile, but smaller, and more of a sliding sensation, he wondered if there was a way to adapt Satomobiles to snow terrain—

And Satomobiles definitely did not do full loops on curving ice. It was a hell of a rush.

Remembering the girl's rushed tip before, Li twisted and snapped out his leg, making the penguin skid to a stop. He stood up, letting the penguin go. His hood had flown off during the ride, and as he moved to replace it, he heard a higher, eager pitch to Korra's shriek, coming from above. He looked up. Her penguin had braked hard, stopping at a small cliff edge, but the girl just kept going, arcing through the air, her shouts still full of joy—would she airbend?—she started to plummet—

The adolescent dashed under her, skidding to a halt. His arms began to rise then stop, as he watched the girl make a quick gesture with her hands. The older boy stiffened but remained perfectly still as the snow around him rushed upward to catch Korra, freezing and letting her thud on it.

Laughing, the girl peeked from her icy perch, finding Li looking up at her with his gray eyes. Stifling her next laugh, Korra made another gesture and the ice turned into water, splashing her and Li as she fell. Still, the older boy caught her.

Taking one look at the water that made Li's dark hair stick to his skull and how unimpressed he looked, Korra pointed at him and cackled.

The girl was silenced as something swept the two up, and Li's grip on her jerked, dropping her. The boy saw a flash of Korra, getting caught up by another bending platform of ice, before hearing and feeling a sickening crack in his leg.

Swearing, Li futilely clawed at the ice that held him up and kept most of his body immobile, only allowing his arms their useless panic and his half-masked face air.

He glowered at the Lotus guard whose arms were raised manipulating the ice.

"No, he's my friend!" The girl shouted, actually bending a large wave of snow at the guard. Caught by surprise, the Lotus guard succumbed to the child's bending, her focus compromised and the ice that held up Li shifting back into snow. The snow didn't soften the blow at all, the adolescent felt another painful break in his leg as he crashed down.

Facefirst in the snow, scarf over his mouth and nose and the hood that had fallen back in place providing some cover, Li heard Korra shout. "No no, Naga, careful, you're gonna smoosh him!" Li rather wished the pain in his leg was enough to make him pass out.

###

"So Li can stay and my mama and papa can make him dinner and then we can go penguin sledding again—?"

From the old healer's side, Li watched the balding Lotus Order member say with a sniff and narrowed eyes, "It's up to your parents whether 'Li' will have dinner with you."

The adolescent smirked slightly. Nothing like using a common alias to demonstrate quite clearly a refusal to share one's name. The practice had been lost on the girl, but served Li well. But even with a wounded leg and damaged ribs, the older boy felt some of his energy return, ready to deal with older people again.

Li watched with some amusement the way the girl pinwheeled on her heel and turned to her parents. "Can Li—?"

"He's welcome at our hearth," said her mother. "As for penguin slidding..."

The old healer finished waterbending over Lin's leg (she'd already seen to his ribs), turning to the others. "Not immediately—"

She turned back to Li, the loops in her hair swaying, "But not too long, either."

"How long until the next trade ship arrives?" The boy asked, ignoring the way Korra immediately drooped.

"That shouldn't take long either."

Li nodded, satisfied.

"Thank you, ma'm."

"Call me Katara."

The adolescent tried to have his eyes widen only slightly at the realizaiton that he was in the presence of a war hero.

###

Korra made the older boy watch her bending. She was very pleased, and he supposed it was impressive to do such maneuvers at her age, and over more than one elemental discipline. Perhaps others were more impressed, perhaps he should've been more impressed—but the boy had been careful to withhold emotion, perhaps he'd grown skilled enough to do it unconsciously.

The adolescent noticed she brought no children her own age to gape at and batter him with questions. She seemed to split time between him, Naga, her parents and training. And that training seemed to only ever involve bending or curriculum geared toward creating an Avatar, nothing else. But the girl seemed to really like throwing fire and hurling water and throwing rocks, which wasn't exactly surprising—it went well with all the energy she had. Li idly wondered if she would ever mellow out as she grew up.

The girl's fondness of him grew to the point that she let him ride Naga on his own, so that he could get the fresh air he wanted without using the leg Master Katara forbade him to use until her say-so.

While riding Naga by himself, Li finally saw Korra approach children just outside the compound. Some didn't bend, some did, and of course the ones that did could only bend one element.

It didn't take long for Li to see that the meeting didn't go well. The other children seemed to regard her multiple bending styles with wariness, jealousy. He heard some insist games with her weren't fair, because she'd always win. But Korra didn't have long to wallow in disappointment, she was off training again.

Li really had no room to draw comparison or draw any conclusions, his older sisters had trained him often to join in their profession when he was of age.

###

Li was careful not to really answer anything about his past. Korra's father had told his daugther that his past was his own, and that seemed to calm the girl's questioning for a time.

While the girl's parents were strangely understanding, the balding Lotus member and most of his Order were wary about his silence. It was clear they were just as eager as he for the tradeship to arrive.

###

"Will you come back?" The girl asked him plaintively. It was the night before he'd leave with the departing trade ship.

"I can't promise anything," the older boy answered honestly.

Korra looked down to her small boots. "Where's your ship going?" she mumbled.

"Republic City," he said, as he shifted around in the inner pocket of his coat. Finding what he was looking for, he knelt before the girl.

"Your father said it was all right to give this to you, he'll teach you how best to use it later," Li said, giving her the sheathed knife.

"A real one!"

"Yes, to replace the ones I burnt," Li referred quite seriously to the wood Korra had insisted were sharp weaponry in that cave of hers.

Delighted, the girl asked if he got it from a pirate.

Li just regarded her with a flat stare.

###

"Wait," and Li paused at the voice of Korra's father. His wife was awake, but their Avatar daughter still asleep. The hour was early, the ship would leave early. Li had already said all the farewells and good-byes he'd planned to before having to go. "Korra really wanted you to have this."

The adolescent accepted a wooden carving from the older man.

"I showed her a few things, but she made it herself."

"...It's a fish."

"A penguin, actually," the older man corrected. He then wished the boy a safe journey.

And "Li" was gone, bound for Republic City.

###

Amon had lost the carving at some point, only remembered that it went missing before he had donned the mask and worked to shed his identity.

Understatement of the decade to say that he had changed and was no longer that adolescent who humored little Water Tribe girls.

The revolutionary leader reminded himself to not even idly wonder if she kept the dagger, or if she'd lost that too over the years. It was ancient history that shouldn't be allowed any influence over current events.

Finished clipping out the photos of the Avatar and her polarbeardog from the newspapers and other relevant articles, Amon filed them all away.

(At the time and occasionally afterward, the boy had flashes of pity over this child being randomly chosen to be apart from everyone, like all the other Avatars. Then his mind darting to histories of the Hundred Year War, how just the Avatar's absence, the disappearance of only one individual, apparently engulfed the entire world in war, which didn't seem...fair, or acceptable, for the whole world to rely so on one person. Shouldn't people be able to cooperate on their own, and isn't it too much pressure for one person, already isolated by the anomaly of being able to bend all the elements? And the Hundred Year War only ended after the returning Avatar removed Fire Lord Ozai's bending—didn't that indicate that the major problem with the tyrant had been his bending, for without it he was defeated and the war over? And the girl had wondered what he was if he was not a bender, without that power it was not clear what nation he belonged to, and why should nations be so defined by the bent element, how did that become tradition? The only logical thing to believe was that the benders decided the set-up of the four major—_only_ nations, any input from nonbenders not truly considered long ago at their inception...

Such things minor and major contributed to the masked man at the head of a revolution today, including that sense of pity over the little girl who estranged the other children and seemed only ever allowed to bend.)

###

On Tenzin's island, Korra whittles a wooden figure of the Fire Ferret mascot with Li's knife, remembering penguin sledding and a leg broken by an overly protective Lotus guard.

A/N: So this became more thoughtful than I thought, but I still think there's some sweetness and humor in between. And there are some deliberate references to the old series in situations that happen, if the audience can find them. Got a kick out of imagining teen Amon.


	3. one step behind the enemy

Title: need some prompting behind the mask

story: one step behind the enemy

Summary/Prompt: A series of prompts on that masked revolutionary leader, Amon. story three: Korra seduces someone… through the art of DANCE! Any pairing is fine, but anon would be quite impressed if you could make it work with Amon/Korra.

A/N: Finally remembered the succint name for hero-villain shipping: Foe Yay! Yeah, Korra/Amon is my Foe Yay ship in AtLOK. NO LEAKED EPISODE 4 SPOILERS. Not until the episode airs! With what little material's available, characterization based on impressions and elaborations on those impressions. Also includes some theorizing with character backstory. Original prompt and fic posting here at the ficbending livejournal community. So far I'm gonna try to post the stories in this collection in original posting order done for the ficbending community.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Legend of Korra.

one step behind the enemy

Another benefit to wearing the Mask so often was that Amon could with relative ease go undercover, despite the scars.

Currently Asami had successfully made he and other Equalists her entourage at a social gala, all in appropriate formal dress. They were keeping an eye out while the Lieutenant and other Equalists searched the host's house, looking to connect this particular bender councilman to the Triple Threat Triad. The Equalists knew he was involved, even the civilians and the police force were aware, but there was no legal proof to allow an arrest. Yet.

Asami had advised the Equalists on Republic City high society etiquette, and her training was paying off so far. Still Amon did not pretend to be the most social of guests, closely watching everything, for a problem or any planned signal. He kept an eye out for the Avatar, Asami said she would be here.

Amon found the Avatar at the refreshment table, beginning to bend a long stream of juice (which contained enough water) to the delight of the guests. They were in too close proximity, and Amon began to move away. He'd taken Asami's news of the Avatar into consideration, and convinced the others that for tonight the priority would only be getting proof of the councilman's corruption, not the Avatar herself.

Turning his back on her as he made for the opposite side of the hall, he heard the Avatar's "Hey, get off—oh no, watch out—!"

Too late, Amon was drenched in juice.

He glanced over his shoulder, saw the Avatar shake off an already too-tipsy guest, then dash forward and wildly gesture.

The liquid was quickly bent off Amon, though he still felt faintly sticky.

"I am really so sorry, sir—!"

Amon gently waved her off.

Still the Avatar looked distraught. Then the jazz band started a new song, and she said in an apologetic, uncertain rush, "Wouldyouwanttodancewithme?"

Amon stared at her.

The Avatar rubbed her arm. "I owe you one, right?"

Amon definitely knew Asami hadn't adequately trained the Avatar in Republic City high society etiquette, despite apparently lending her a dress. Amon recognized it as one of Asami's black dresses, the one with blue embroidery. Probably a gift from one of Asami's suitors. Definitely one that would feed a family for two months if sold. Amon thought the dress didn't suit the Avatar at all.

They were being watched, guests watching behind their hands, whispering. Amon offered his gloved hand, thinking that a refusal would draw more unwanted attention, rather than if he just accepted.

She snatched his hand and yanked hard toward the dance floor, Amon noting how her nerves made her more aggressive and uncontrolled. This was a social situation, not battle, yet Amon began to consider that this would be another way to get an idea of what he was dealing with.

Still, her hand was too tight, and Amon did not wish for this surreal ordeal to be anymore awkward than it already was, or to constantly keep his feet from getting stepped on.

So Amon removed his hand, and turned it upward into a slowed firebending gesture grazing her wrist.

As he anticipated, the Avatar understood, her face splitting into a blooming grin that made something stir in his chest. (Not a good sign at all.) She returned with her own firebending gesture grazing his gloved wrist, then continued to lead.

Again, Amon did not wish to draw attention; and if he really wanted to turn this into an opportunity to gather intelligence on the Avatar, it might be best to see what she did of her own initiative under these circumstances.

The Avatar entered into a slower variation of a firebending kata, and Amon chose a different firebending kata to complement hers. The revolutionary leader had long learned that actually knowing the bending styles raised the chances of survival in combat against benders.

Steadily the Avatar quickened her movements, again demonstrating her speed, endurance and strength. She spiralled and twisted; leapt and twirled, barely landing before going off again. Amon let her lead, but kept pace with her, reflecting back every one of her steps as he revolved around her, as if they were celestial spirits bound to each other.

Another possibility finally occurred to Amon, and he suddenly felt very irritated with himself: this little charade did run the risk of her recognizing his own movements...

But the Avatar showed no signs of awareness. Amon reminded himself that this was a dance, not a fight, and due to the Avatar's limited experience with him, she would only be able to recognize him trying to subdue and demoralize her, failing to see him try to go beneath her notice.

As the jazz band hit a fever pitch, they snatched each other's hands, their circling tightened and suffocating in the increased warmth raditing off their bodies.

The surreality of the situation grew for Amon. The feel of the Avatar's hand only reminded him of her chin in his grasp, and his promise to destroy everything she stood for, which unfortunately included her very self. It had already started; in that instant he'd cracked her armor and bravado, and was subsequently swamped by the absolute terror radiating off her in thick, choking waves.

As the song ended, Amon was shaken out of the memory, for he and the Avatar split off, their arms outstretched but hands still grasping.

Then there was applause, and Korra slumped down, blushing and rubbing the back of her neck; her arm had slackened, but she still held his gloved hand; she was beaming above her reddening cheeks and below the hair slipping out of her wolf's tail and damned if she didn't look radiant to Amon. The revolutionary saw no point in denying that instinctive feeling; it seemed even too unacceptable to stomach that sort of lie to himself. All that mattered was that he never ever acted on it. Shouldn't be too much of a problem, he had gotten rather skilled at separating all his thoughts from what action he took, when such a split became necessary.

"Wow, you're something else, you—what's your name?" The girl asked, voice warped slightly by breathlessness and joy.

In this case, Amon did not trust his own voice to shift enough to avoid her recognition, especially after their last encounter and the most recent risk with the dance. Letting go of her hand, he held his throat, fingers spreading across it meaningfully. The revolutionary would feign being a mute.

"Oh!" Korra bought it. "Oh, you're—I'm sorry, I—mean I'm not sorry—I mean, there's nothing wrong with—"

Amon stilled at Asami's gasp, her loud shriek of "How dare you?" and her stinging slap. That was the signal, a fellow Equalist enduring her strike for the sake of a tryst gone awry as the cover story.

Turning back his attention to the Avatar, Amon silenced her flustered apology by taking her hand and pressing a very quick kiss to it. He had to slip out of the gala with the others quickly. The revolutionary then bowed Fire Nation style to her, and she stumbled to return the gesture. Finally he left the Avatar, disappearing into the crowds as they converged on her, many asking her for a dance as well.

###

Next to the headline about another corrupt bender councilman under arrest, Amon leveled a flat stare at a smaller headline: "AVATAR COURTED, SCARRED FIREBENDER CATCHES HER EYE."

It was a worrying sign for Republic City's journalistic integrity.

###

"You must share every sordid detail," Bolin declared imperiously, presenting the folded paper to Korra's face as she entered the gym.

The girl groaned as Bolin continued, "Starting with what he looked like, especially since the reporters failed in their photographic duty."

"Already screwed over their principles," Mako added without a glance to them while he continued his firebending training.

"Like they ever had those," Bolin scoffed with a roll of his eyes. He focused again on Korra. "So, what'd he look like? What was he like? Did you ask him to dance or did he ask you—?"

"I asked him after I spilled juice all over him, felt like I owed him, and I thought that was the way to do it at a social hubabaloo like that!"

Bolin blinked at Korra. "So it was an apology dance?"

"Yeah, I guess, I was just a total doof—" Korra began to act it out with exaggerated gestures. "—I was showing off my waterbending when this drunk got all grabby hands and broke my concentration, and then this guy's totally drenched. I waterbent what I could off him, but it was so humilating."

Korra then answered Bolin's next question with a small grin. "But he was cool about it—I mean, just really calm about it, never made a fuss. And he seemed nice, but we just danced for a couple of minutes before he had to take off." Korra didn't mention that he was a mute.

Finally the young Avatar answered Bolin's last point. "He was an older guy, like maybe mid-twenties. He had gray eyes, dark hair that was kinda longish and a little wild, but it was all tied back, and the scars were—well, the biggest one was to the right of his left eye, and it stretched down across his mouth, diagonal-like. There was a smaller one below his right eye, a real slight sideways cut." Korra took the paper. "Guy was pretty banged up, must've been in a lot of fights," she finished appreciatively and with some awe.

Any thought to the cool dance partner last night evaporated as she unfolded the paper and saw the huge blazing headline.

"Sonofa—!"

"Told you she'd blow up at that," Mako called over his shoulder, and Bolin shot him a flat glare.

"I was at this guy's stupid party! In his stupid mansion!" Korra fumed, and then she plopped down, reading the entire article on the corrupt bender councilman. The article said he wasn't the first. As she read her fingers tightened and threatened to tear the paper. This had happened right under her nose, and she'd done nothing to help! Hadn't even known there was a problem! While Korra absorbed the text she kept hearing Amon's eerie voice that switched from calm to passion so easily as he argued his point, about the risk of benders abusing their power being too great...

_"I will destroy you."_

Korra shuddered, remembering the emptiness in his voice, the way Amon had gripped her face (but not the way his gloved hand held her own bare one, nor the way his scarred lips had quickly grazed the back of it, never realizing who her dance partner was).

She finally crumpled up the paper and threw it aside, scowling. Other than unadulterated terror and trying to get over it, Korra just felt supremely irritated by the thought that Amon could be right in any way.

A/N: Idea of the scars in Amon's hypothetical unmasked appearance actually inspired by the voice actor, Steve Blum, playing Starscream pictured here: .com/tagged/scars

This fic response took advantage of the "Asami=Equalist" theory floating around.

I'm still not sure if Amon's eye color is gray, but it looks like that to me so far. I dunno, it looks like even his eye color is in shadow in all the pics and trailers so far.

Again this does echo to prior events in the first _Avatar_ series.


	4. i renounce it all

Title: need some prompting behind the mask

story: i renounce it all

Summary/Prompt: A series of prompts on that masked revolutionary leader, Amon. story four: In front of a large rally of people, Korra renounces bending and allows Amon to take it from her.

A/N: Finally remembered the succint name for hero-villain shipping: Foe Yay! Yeah, Korra/Amon is my Foe Yay ship in AtLOK. Original prompt and fic posting at the ficbending livejournal community. So far I'm gonna try to post the stories in this collection in original posting order done for the ficbending community.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Legend of Korra.

"Your resolve is weakening, Avatar."

"Pfft, mine? Have you looked in the mirror lately? Never mind, that's why you wear the mask, right?"

The challenge was set.

###

Their conflict would reach its third year soon. Korra and Amon had become familiar in that time. They'd softened and hardened each other simultaneously. Even wore each other down, bit by bit over the years. She had wanted to overcome her fear of the revolutionary leader-she did, and picked up the nasty perception of Amon-the-Person. They'd gotten into the habit of sparring verbally while they fought; Amon's mind and adrenaline was stimulated, he even took some pleasure to see Korra's debate skills grow. There was the occasional truce or team-up when a common enemy became too great, such as during the Triple Threat Triad civil war in year two of Korra's stay in Republic City. Reconciliation a teasing possibility that would reveal itself, only to jump back when the two clashed again. Still, know thy enemy, and all that.

Even sleeping with the enemy. Literally.

###

Amon had been apprehensive in the months since the Incident.

Korra was, overall, calculating since that Time.

Their explosive encounters had steadily grown sporadic. Republic City wondered if they'd made another truce or agreement. If they'd made any headway toward reconciliation.

Amon was not thoroughly ignorant, both due to his own perceptiveness and Korra's forthrightness in only so many words. But he made no progress in deciding what to do, and she offered him nothing more than the news.

The Avatar left him to hide his virtual scramble in the dark, while she maintained her composure and gained control. Amon appreciated the reversal. He was even impressed with her, to some degree.

Things finally came to a head at the rally.

###

Amon raised an arm to calm the people as Naga's howled pierced the air.

The revolutionary leader turned, and found that after the polarbeardog had heralded her entrance, the creature continued to bear the Avatar forward, the crowds parting before her imperious march.

The people's fear and anger were overcome by curiosity; those close enough stared and whispered to their neighbor, and soon the observation spread through the farthest reaches of the crowd. But no one was certain of what they saw.

Amon stared too, his eyes meeting Korra's, her blue eyes putting on a show: full of exhaustion, but behind them light; her mouth a frown, with the barest tilt at the corner to make it a smirk for his eyes only. Korra knew only Amon would watch so closely.

Naga brought Korra to the stage, gently lowering her down, whining keenly. The young woman stepped down, rubbing the fur between her beast's ears. As Korra walked toward Amon, it became all too clear: her stomach extended beneath the clothes, tailored to fit the change.

A hush fell on the crowd at the clear visual confirmation.

Amon was reminded of the Mask's ability as a crutch-it effectively hid the conflicting emotions on his face. His body was impossibly tense, but he had a reputation of being statuesque, no one would notice. Korra knelt before him, her slight smirk widening, clearly reveling in his growing anxiety.

"I renounce it," she declared lowly, mournfully, while Amon only saw the challenge in her eyes beneath that furrowed brow. "I renounce it all. My legacy as the Avatar, bending-all of it."

Korra played her master stroke, her strong arms covering her stomach as she bent over it, protective. "I ask that you take it away."

The Technique had been refined enough that seventy five percent of adults now survived having their bending removed. Amon had not attempted to purge children of their bending, let alone pregnant benders.

Korra knew all that.

Amon felt the moment freeze forever as she looked up at him, beseeching; the challenge deep in her blue eyes remained.

In that moment, Amon thought her the most beautiful, enchanting creature in the world.

So she wanted him to lose face in front of the people and the rest of his Equalists. She wanted to think he would not risk the life of his own unborn child. Thought that the months before were enough to build up his indecision.

Korra always was a gambler full of sheer nerve; an admirable quality.

"As you wish," Amon quietly said, stretching his arm out for her forehead. She offered it, arms tightening imperceptibly around her stomach. The breath she exhaled hid nothing; it was genuine acceptance.

Korra had grown better at knowing her odds, and taking acceptable risks, and accepting their consequences, especially when they went south.

Smoothing the hair away from her forehead, Amon performed the Technique, filled with determination and the desperate hope that no one would die.

Korra looked at him peacefully, until she no longer could.

###

"Nothing," Korra said as she sat up in bed, giving Amon's entry a glance before looking out the window again. She'd woken up yesterday, loudly demanding food for two. Amon silently nestled the tray overflowing with food at her side. "You outdid yourself this time, Amon."

Korra stretched, snatching away a steamed bun and regarding Amon with another challenge in her eyes. He stood before her, back straight and hands folded behind his back.

"Of course we'll finally see if this ends the Avatar Cycle, or if it just goes on, as if I died." Korra tore at the bun with one hand, the other curling around her stirring stomach. "And there's no guarantee this little guy won't have bending, just because mine's gone-we'll have to wait and see. And if it does-?"

Korra swallowed and shot him a rakish grin. "What will you do? What if it's a prodigy bender? Doing the water whip in its cradle? Will you cure it then? Or wait until it's older? Wait until it's grown?"

Amon had to respond. He could not be rendered speechless. "As you said, wait and see."

Korra smirked, stretching up and standing up from bed. She slipped her arms around the waist of an unnomoving Amon. Made sure to press her stomach against his. She grinned obnoxiously when it gave a strong kick.

"This time, I'll persuade you," Korra promised Amon.

Challenge accepted.


	5. don't worry korra

Title: need some prompting behind the mask

story: don't worry korra, aang had his fangirls too

Summary/Prompt: A series of prompts on that masked revolutionary leader, Amon. story five: Korra is humiliated in front of Amon./The three triad guys that were beaten up by Korra-in time honored tradition, decide they want Korra as their "Big Boss." They become her biggest fans/supporters/stalkers.

A/N: Original prompt and fic posting here at the ficbending livejournal community. So far I'm gonna try to post the stories in this collection in original posting order done for the ficbending community. This is the first of those stories/prompt fills that provide a character's different view/snippet of Amon. So this turned out crackier than I thought, much of that in the characterization. XD Reviews area always appreciated. Some edits from the original livejournal version, mostly grammar/spelling clean-up.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Legend of Korra.

Korra and Amon faced each other off, tense and waiting for the other to move first. Their chase had pounded long through the streets and had sapped at their energy somewhat, but now they would—

"We've got your back, Avatar!"

The young girl groaned, not even bothering to turn to face the trio jogging in behind in the alley. They were the three Triad goons she'd decked on her very first day in Republic City.

"Ah, the Avatar's fanboys," Amon said in a low, amused growl.

Korra rather wanted to die at that very moment. Of all the times they had to show up, they had to do it right in front of Amon—!

"We'd prefer volunteer service men—"

"What, I thought we were her servants?"

"The poor man's version of the White Lotus Order guards—?"

Korra slumped, a headache coming on as the three argued terminology behind her.

She slammed her forehead with the palm of her hand when Amon actually started to laugh.

"Oh my, they are _precious_, Avatar. Where did you find such devoted followers?" Her eye twitched as the playfulness remained in Amon's voice. "Preying on benderless shopkeepers and such, before you had to beat them into submission?"

Though the mirth remained unchanged in Amon's voice, she gave her own growl, remembering his earlier statement about benders abusing their power most of the time, and here were these guys—sure, they were kinda sorta slightly helping her out, but it seemed like it was just because, as Amon had guessed, she'd beat them down and—

"All right, all right, shut up you two, get 'im, he's mockin' the Big Boss!"

"'Big Boss?'" Amon parroted, and outright cackled as he dodged the Triad goon's combined bending attack.

Hair flying into her face at the sudden bending, Korra tried to snap herself out of humiliation to keep those fools from getting totally...

"Sonofa—!"

"The f—!"

"Notthefacenottheface—!"

...beaten. Korra blinked at her Triad groupies left groaning on the ground, Amon standing oh so innocently behind them with arms folded almost primly behind his back, somehow doubling his smile, for along with the slight grin on his mask, the face behind it was surely smiling too.

She smacked her forehead again. She was fairly certain another red mark would be left there. She'd been getting more of those ever since the Triad goons decided to tag along.

Amon sighed, pleased. "Been a while since I've been so entertained. Rather nice."

Korra snarled, summoning stone. "Not here for your ent—"

"Amon, Avatar, freeze!" Korra groaned as the metalbender cops arrived.

"'Til next time, 'Big Boss,'" and Amon threw down a gas bomb before dashing off, nimble as ever.

_Airbend airbend AIRBEND_but Korra could not blow away the quick spreading gas that was so thick and so intensely foul it blinded her and the officers' senses—

"Ow!"

"Sorry," Korra mumbled, removing her foot off one of the Triad goons she'd just stepped on.

A/N: Amon demanded to be written in to channel Transformers Prime's Starscream when actually going into super-mocking mode against Korra and her fanboys.


	6. equivalent exchange

**Title: need some prompting behind the mask**

**story: equivalent exchange**

**Summary/Prompt: A series of prompts on that masked revolutionary leader, Amon. story six: Amon is an agent working for Koh the Face Stealer. He wears a mask because he doesn't have a face.**

**A/N: Original prompt and fic posting here at the ficbending livejournal community. So far I'm gonna try to post the stories in this collection in original posting order done for the ficbending community. Either sorta/completely out of continuity at this point, or twistedly made canon-compliant. Either way, going with original insane plotbunny I had before ep. 3 aired. Includes some parts from ep. 4. Also includes scenes from the first series. What follows is a long fill. Title inspired by "Fullmetal Alchemist."**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Legend of Korra.**

The mask felt tight against Amon's face, irritating the scars.

He ignored it, in favor of scanning his surroundings. The ground was solid beneath his boots, but everything seemed to twist and warp, fade back and in as if behind a fog. But the air did not feel like a fog, the whole land felt rather...breathless. Amon supposed the Spirits had no real need for oxygen and so their world was lacking.

And yet he still breathed and his heart pounded, even if both were speeding away in their fear.

Amon's mind rattled to a halt for a moment, as he reached the cave's mouth. He had to focus; trying to figure out how the Spirit World worked was important, but he was getting too specific, he had to focus on the here and now.

The masked man continued forward—and jerked to a halt, flicking out a knife as something quick crossed his path. He eased up slightly when he realized it was small—a flying lemur, in fact. It turned its head. Faceless.

Amon's grip tightened on the knife as he carefully walked around the creature robbed of its face. He heard it scurry in the dirt, and shot it a look over his shoulder; the faceless creature bounded up and over a large tree root and was gone. So that particular myth was true; Koh stole his victims' faces, but he allowed them to still move...

More scurrying and shuffling sounds echoed in the tunnel as Amon walked in deeper. He glanced around, trying to find the cave's lord, wondering if all the scurrying and shuffling was just Koh commanding his faceless victims to cover the noise of his own stalking body...

Finally there was a loud, unmistakable rustling and rapid beating of many legs, and Amon stilled at the sudden waft of musty breath in his left ear.

"I see you've come prepared," the low voice whispered in his ear, and Amon dared to turn toward the sound.

It was not a stranger's face he had immediately expected, but that of the she who'd wake up at his side forever irritated with the early sunlight. Except hers looked almost cruelly blank now.

Amon lunged, one hand raised to grab and the other raising his knife, to cut her face away from the spirit—

He gave a pained shout as his back hit stone, the knife falling from his grip. Amon cursed, struggling to get up, he hadn't even seen Koh move—he froze as his knife hung in front of his masked face, dangling from a long curved tip of Koh's body.

He looked up into her face, but it was only Koh's deep voice that spoke, "You mortals really have no manners." The spirit flung the knife away, clattering somewhere in the dark of the cavern.

Amon knelt before the spirit, palms and masked face against the ground. Time for the alternate plan a.k.a. the plan most likely to succeed.

"Please—I don't know why you chose to do this, but—"

"Oh now he says 'please'—it's not even the right etiquette, you're supposed to say 'hello, nice to meet you,' and introduce yourself—"

"—please, great spirit, please return my wife's face and—"

"—that of your child's?"

The curve of the man's back stiffened, and Koh laughed.

"Trick question, actually," Koh purred as he began to circle Amon, who had raised his head, slowly standing up. "After all, I'd have to see the child's face crack an emotion—"

Koh shifted, and Amon saw his faceless wife at the mouth of another tunnel, her hands over her large swelling stomach.

"—which I clearly can't in this case. And what a case it has been! Such an interesting novelty—!"

Amon's feet moved of their own accord, rushing for his wife and unborn child. He held her tight, swept aside her hair looking for hear ears—yes, she still had them—"Sumalee, Sumalee, can you hear me? It's me, Amon. Can you hear—?"

The faceless body's arms now went limp at her side, not even covering her stomach.

"—I truly do not believe I have ever took the face of a pregnant woman before!"

Amon's hand went to her stomach. Alarmed, he noted how the stomach had remained the same size—but maybe it naturally wouldn't have grown any if it had been able to keep the weeks it had lost. He tried to feel for that kick Sumalee had said could go on for hours and hours, yet grudgingly admitted that meant the kid would be full of energy—

"Could be dead, could be in some form of hibernation—I'm really not quite sure myself..." Koh murmured, suddenly very close to Amon's ear. The masked man shook with his fury and terror, holding onto his wife's body for support when his knees threatened to give. Still, she remained unresponsive. As unresponsive as her stomach that didn't stir once...

Time to fully start the alternate plan in earnest then.

"Please...please take me instead."

"Pardon?" Koh laughed. "What makes you think your life is even worth that? That I'd take one for two—"

Amon straightened up, stepped away from his wife and stabbed a finger at her. His voice was quiet, but unyielding. "Did you yourself not just say that you only gained one new face? That this child's remained out of your grasp?" Amon began to circle his wife, feeling Koh's gaze upon him. "A 'novelty'—yes, perhaps, but with value as short-lived as any other novelty. This unborn child is useless to you, just as useless as its mother."

"Really?" Koh sounded amused.

"Really," Amon repeated, his eyes behind the mask growing even flatter. "Am I right to say that you control the body of any face you steal, such as that flying lemur outside?"

Koh faced him, making Sumalee's face smile thinly as it nodded.

"But there's only so much you can make that body do, isn't there? That body still has its own limits, doesn't it?" Amon swept an arm toward his wife. "This body can do nothing for you, weighed down by an unborn child as it is. And for all appearances and given what you yourself suggested, she will stay like this forever. She will be useless to you forever. As eternally useless as that unborn child."

Amon pressed forward, before Koh could even voice possible arguments—the spirit could just rip the child from its mother's womb, see if it was even developed enough to have a face that could hold emotion; could return the woman's face and let her deliver, only to steal back her face and that of the newborn's; could just rip off Amon's mask now, and take them all; could just pry into what emotion Amon did show behind the mask, surely that was enough to steal a face...

"But there is me, great spirit. I am in my prime. I will do—"

"'—whatever I want?'" Koh made Sumalee's smile far too wide.

Amon nodded, his heart cold. He had hoped Koh would play with him, and once he'd entered the cave, it seemed the spirit had done that, toying with him the whole time, overlooking chances to rip off his mask, steal his face...if Koh were in a playful mood and thought Amon would be more fun, and if it was too amused by the idea of Amon offering himself up like this, then perhaps he'd accept, and Sumalee and the child would go free...

"Do you truly understand what you are offering, mortal?" Koh softly asked, flicking a claw and the faceless Sumalee began to walk away. Instinctively Amon reached for her, following her—but a length of Koh's body swept around Amon and began to bind him. Heart pounding, Amon looked down at the shelled body curl and curl around him...

"You will not die. Your body will be my puppet for the rest of eternity. You will be _aware_."

Amon shivered. "I understand that I cannot let my wife and child experience that."

The masked man was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to retch as Koh pressed his wife's stolen lips to his ear, kissing it. "Very well," Koh vowed. "I'll give you a moment to say farewell." Koh's voice almost sounded kind.

Quickly Koh released Amon, and he struggled to stay upright and not fall to his knees as if all his energy had been sapped away.

No use, he fell to his knees, and watched Koh curl around his wife's body, hiding her in his coils. Panicked, Amon began to crawl toward them, terrified Koh had lied and would just tear the body to pieces, it was 'useless' after all, that's what Amon had argued, Koh could just do that and throw the argument back in his face along with the bloody remains of Sumalee and their child—

But Koh drifted away, and there Sumalee stood with her face, one hand up and feeling her nose and eyes and lips, the other wrapped tight and shaking around her stomach.

Amon ran to her, and she to him.

His hand scrambled for her stomach, and she snatched it, guiding it, laying it flat against the fabric. They both shared a crazed laugh when her stomach strongly kicked.

"I know, I know what you promised him—"

"All—all right, that saves us time—"

Sumalee lifted the mask only off Amon's mouth, shoving her lips against his. Amon hungrily drank her in, harshly kissed back. He tried to lift the rest of his mask away, but Sumalee's fingers tightened on it.

"Please," he broke the kiss long enough to whisper that.

"Damn it," she snapped, then tore the mask off.

Their embrace and the kiss continued unabated, tightening further and further, Sumalee's swelling stomach pressed tight between them and kicking back and forth, back and forth...

"Tick tock tick tock," Koh warned as his voice came from all around.

Sumalee cried and cursed, and Amon's eyes burned, feeling wet. They still held each other tight.

"I don't know if I can raise the kid alone—"

"We had talked about giving it up, before, even with both of us around—nothing's changed, i-in that regard—"

"Then the temple, still—?"

"They would see to it that it was taken care of."

"Ah, the woes of mortal poverty," Koh cackled, and this time Amon swore.

"Use that tongue for all its worth—you won't be using it as freely from now on..." And Koh laughed.

Amon trembled, only stilling somewhat when Sumalee's hold on him tightened, and he felt the baby kick again. "What should I name it?"

"I—"

"Don't argue, _you_ get to name it, okay?" Sumalee snarled at him, voice cracking.

Amon panted, trying to think, remember the names they had discussed before. He was coming up with a blank. Had they really discussed it? Not really, no; when growing closer to the decision that they could not support the child under their current circumstances, they could barely support each other...

"Um—Ai, if it's a girl. And if it's a boy, just—just name him after my oldest brother."

Sumalee's smile was hesitant and bitter and frantic. "Another name starting with 'A,' huh?"

"Yes, if that's all right?"

"Damn it, what did I say?"

"Time's up," Koh said.

"What? No! No, it's not enough time—!"

Amon quickly fitted his discarded mask on Sumalee's face, just in case.

"I love you—"

"Amon—"

Koh dragged Sumalee away toward a pool of water.

"—I love you I love you I love you—"

"_Amon_!"

Koh shoved her into the pool. Amon ran for it as her head disappeared beneath the water. That had been sudden, what if she drowned, what if the spirit had lied and she drowned—

"Shhh, relax—" Koh swept out a claw, stopping Amon short of diving in after her. "She's fine, see?"

And Amon could. In the water's reflection was a vision of Sumalee struggle up on the grass of their meager farm, and scream, grieving and furious.

"Don't worry, mortal...I'll still let you see, even after this...just give us a smile, first..."

Amon chose to spit in Koh's face instead. It was enough.

He would never forget the sensation of claws all along the side of his scarred face and just _**pulling**_.

###

"What _did_ happen to your face, mortal?"

Amon found it a very curious thing to stare at the pool of water, and see his scarred face on Koh's centipede-like body. And how next to the spirit's body was his own mortal one that still moved to his commands unless Koh overrode, with everything but the face. Perversely Amon knew it was the smoothest it had been since That day.

But Amon did not feel like talking about That day.

"Answer me, mortal."

And unwanted memories flooded Amon's mind, _the bender and the extortion and his family and the fire so much fire burning so fast his family screaming dying and Sumalee's crying somewhere while he laid in bed and screamed in turn as the pain never ever went away even while he slept it probably kept Sumalee up her family had been the first to pull him from the ruins and oh gods he should just shut up he was keeping Sumalee up and making her cry too_

Amon curled into a tight ball on the stone floor, Koh gently stroking his trembling back.

###

Koh was true to his word. He let Amon see.

"So your oldest brother was named 'Aang,' was he?"

"Yes," Amon growled as he watched Sumalee give birth in the air temple. Watched her give the child up to an old monk who treated her so kindly, and promised he would look after the boy.

And so did Koh and Amon. They kept watching Aang, and Sumalee. This disturbed Amon.

"Aang does not look very much like Sumalee, does he?" Koh tapped a claw to his stolen chin. "Does he resemble his namesake?"

"Yes, he resembles all my brothers, actually—Sir, you no longer have to—"

"Worried I will still go after them, mortal?" It wore a dragon's face, fangs bared in a gruesome smile. "I never said I wouldn't again, now did I?"

Koh traced a pointed leg around where Amon's face should have been. "You have no say in the matter, mortal. Remember that. And be grateful for what mercies I do offer you. Isn't seeing your son and wife enough?"

###

"You are surprised Aang can bend?"

"Neither Sumalee nor I could. Nor could her family or mine."

"Absolutely no one in your families could?"

"I remember my father once said his grandparents could bend...Sumalee said she had a great uncle who could...I suppose it could skip generations..."

###

They watched and they watched, watched Sumalee bury her sister and Aang be named the new Avatar.

Amon felt cold when the pool showed his son receive that news.

"You'd briefly wondered why I had taken your wife's face in the first place. I suppose now I can say it was not coincidence."

But no matter how much Amon questioned him, Koh would say no more on the topic.

For a time Amon's questions faded as Aang was frozen in the ice, and Sumalee died of heartbreak at the news of the air nomad slaughter, thinking her son among them.

"Hmm, how appropriate, the son will not age like the father."

Amon had nothing to say, even if he had a mouth to say it.

###

Koh would let his faceless creatures mingle with each other, minds and spirits touching. Ummi had found Amon five years after Aang had been frozen.

"You had known Kuruk, the water Avatar before my son?" Amon had repeated, after she had introduced herself.

"We were engaged, until—well, you know."

"...What is this, a collective of those related to the Avatar?"

He could hear the tired smile in her mind. "Something like that."

Amon sighed as best he could. "I apologize, I should not have been short with you."

Her laugh was harsh but true. "You are currently the youngest among us here. It's expected of newcomers to be rather 'short' with everyone. Particularly with Koh monopolizing so much of your time. He does not have the most reassuring presence, as you've come to realize."

"All too well," Amon muttered, watching Ummi gently pet one of the faceless monkeys.

###

"Are you...angry, mortal?"

"...This war has gone on too long."

"Wel, the Avatar is gone."

"How could it have all fallen to pieces so fast without my son? He's only a child, he should not be under such pressure in the first place! The world should not rely on him so, they can't expect one person to keep the peace!"

"Indeed, indeed," Koh murmured while Amon seethed.

###

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Amon and Ummi untangled themselves at Koh's approach. Amon noted that the spirit wore a woman's face that had Ummi's hair and her flesh.

"It has been long, and you are both widows, essentially..." Koh mused aloud while the two dressed themselves.

"What is it, great spirit?" Amon ground out.

"Aang is free from the ice."

Amon eagerly followed the Face-Stealer to the vision-pool.

###

"My, that boy_ is_ under a lot of pressure, isn't he?"

Amon said nothing, just ached for his and Sumalee's child.

###

Amon and Ummi again wandered aimlessly around Koh's caverns. Amon paused when he saw a flash of orange.

He ran for the color, for the boy with the arrow tattoos, hand reaching out—a tree root hooked his foot and began to climb up and restrict him.

Of course the cave would obey the will of its spirit master.

And Amon could call no warnings. The only one who could hear him was Ummi, who was now similarly constricted. She had chased after him, and now remained relaxed in the roots, while Amon madly struggled, trying to make as much noise as possible, but damn it if Koh wasn't making the other faceless creatures scurry about and over up his noises...

"Amon, be calm; look at how Aang walks, how he shows no emotion—he knows whom he deals with, he is prepared. He will not lose his face," Ummi tried to console Amon. But she said nothing more as Amon's roots pulled him away from her.

The roots brought him briefly before Koh, who smiled back with Amon's own scarred face.

"Please..." Amon begged again, his voice only heard by Koh.

"Not my fault if your child shows emotion," was all Koh said, and left Amon tied in a position where he could watch, but not be seen by the mortal boy.

Even in his terror, Amon found it curious to watch his son in-person rather than through a vision-pool aimed at the mortal world. If not for the roots and Koh, he could walk up to him and actually touch him...

Amon's scream could only be heard by Ummi and the other faceless creatures and Koh when Aang cheered. Amon remembered to breathe when Aang said he must be going, and left.

Relief washed over Amon, and if he could, he was certain he would have laughed, even cried.

###

"Does a great spirit such as yourself know how the Avatar is selected?"

Amon welcomed the pain as Koh stabbed a claw through his stomach. He rarely felt such a thing in over a century in the cave. But just as quickly the wound began to heal over. Koh still liked his people functional for further amusement.

"Do not mock me, mortal." And then Koh gave a dramatic mock-sigh. "The honor goes only to benders, of course."

Amon snorted. He would hardly call being an Avatar an honor, not with the way it slowly chipped away at his son... But Aang stood strong. It reminded him of Sumalee. Amon was grateful for that.

"Or to other suitable individuals and make them bend. I believe both are possible." Koh managed a shrug with his voluminous body. "Clear enough that it would've been better if Aang had never been chosen, wouldn't you say?"

As a father who had helped decide it was better to give him up in the hope of better care, Amon had to agree.

"Though if you hadn't stolen Sumalee's face and effectively paused the pregnancy, Aang might've been born before the passing of the last Avatar," Amon growled.

Koh only laughed and revealed nothing more. The spirit kept its secrets.

###

Amon felt everything fall away as the lightning coursed through Aang's body and stole his breath away.

Koh embraced him, parodying comfort. Still Amon could not feel the legs prick through his clothes and into his skin.

Then Amon spoke, remembering how to form words. "She still has the oasis water."

Koh hummed. "So she does."

Even when the waterbender broke down and cried, still Amon hoped.

"You are very fortunate," Koh told him when Aang's eyes finally opened.

###

"You are to see Aang again?"

"Apparently. Another opportunity to be of assistance, another chance to steal his face…."

"You won't get his face, and it'll only be a waste of your time. I could go in your stead, Sir; you could speak through me—"

"Getting desperate, aren't we, mortal?"

"…Very."

"As generous an offer as that is, I'm afraid I'll have to decline." Koh smiled wide with Amon's face. "But I'll be sure to keep such willingness in mind for when I truly do need it."

Amon remembered his sense of foreboding.

###

"He…removed his bending." Amon sounded stunned.

"Hmm, yes, such a shame." Koh examined the tips of his legs, bored.

"I had no idea such a thing was possible."

Koh laughed. "There are many things you mortals have no idea of. Not that they can't be taught—you're a rather fast learner yourself, Amon."

Amon wasn't really listening, watching his child return to his friends, alive and victorious and sanity intact.

###

"And they lived happily ever after," Koh laughed, and let Amon watch Aang love and wed.

Watch Aang have children of his own.

"Congratulations on becoming a grandfather, mortal!" Amon wished Koh would be quiet.

Watch Aang die.

"He…he...didn't Avatar Kyoshi live to be over two hundred years old?"

Koh shrugged. "Perhaps his time in the ice sapped away at his long life, I don't know."

Amon wasn't sure what to feel. He wished his son peace. He deserved that and more.

###

"I have missed showing you two views, Amon, since Sumalee's untimely death. Don't you want to see what your child's new world has done for your people, his own heritage?"

And so Koh also showed Amon over the years after the War the lives of nonbenders.

Amon grew steadily alarmed.

"What do you make of it, mortal?"

"Technology. Technology has…advanced so, that nonbenders are more self-reliant. They do not need benders as much. I'm not even sure if they fully grasp that yet, but the benders seem to. They feel…threatened."

"A cornered animal will strike back, brutally if need be," Koh hummed.

"And there is no common enemy to unite against anymore," Amon muttered.

Koh laughed. "I suppose not much has changed since the loss of your first family." Koh whirled on Amon, showing his scarred face. "Loss of your first face."

Not for the first time, Amon wished he could leave the cave, just for a moment.

"You blamed the bending, didn't you? More than the person?"

"…I—"

"_**Didn't you**_? Do not lie to me, Amon."

"I—yes, actually. I did." Amon said, the genuine words drawn out against his better judgment, Koh's command clear: _you must not tell lies_….

"I—it—he—would he have been able to kill them all so…so thoroughly, so quickly, if he hadn't been able to bend? He—he himself was a monster and—but w-was it the bending that made him think he could do it and get away with it?"

"But he _did _get away with it, didn't he, Amon? Was he ever caught?"

"…No."

"If your son were a nonbender, do you believe he would have suffered so?"

"...No."

"Do you believe your son was wrong to remove Ozai's bending?"

"…No."

"Would you like to have that skill as well?"

"..._Yes_."

(Amon did not take the time to ponder how hungry he sounded, hungry and tired.)

###

"Your eyes, you can have back. Everything else is unnecessary—yes, even the mouth, you will be able to speak without it physically being there, and mortals will hear your voice again. I'm speaking through you, after all, am I not?"

Koh smiled with Amon's face, now eyeless.

Amon nodded, the new mask Koh had given him weighing heavy on his shoulders. He blinked, experimentally. It felt so strange. Amon wondered if he would ever blink normally again.

Koh lightly smacked one stiff shoulder with a leg. "Don't be so serious, I'm not being literal, exactly. You'll still have your own words and such for the most part. Besides, you agree with me, don't you?" Koh's smile widened. "You mostly agree with me." Koh drew Amon close. "I know you do, mortal." The spirit whispered in his ear. "You cannot blame it all on my hold on you."

Amon shivered, and nodded again. Koh was correct. The spirit's presence had always been in the back of his mind, ever since he gave up his face. It could be weak or strong, but it never left. It was…familiar, now. Had been for a while. Amon wasn't sure if he just hadn't been noticing it as much, or was just accepting it. Koh's command was clear: _do my will_. And Amon was compelled to, whatever it was.

And what it was…well, most of Amon's conscious self was inclined to agree with it. _There's no need to directly deal with Aang's family in this_, Koh's command clarified. _They won't have to worry about the world falling apart around them if this works. And you would help your people. _

"You…do you care about mortals at all, Sir?" Amon's voice was doubtful.

Koh laughed. "Hardly. But then I don't really care if a benefit to them is a side effect of my own agenda's success."

Still Amon tried to divine possible true ill in this command, or real potential for it. Koh could not be trusted, surely. The spirit's mind was swift, it could change for ill in an instant.

But Amon's mind at the moment felt as if it was full of fog. It knew not where to turn, what to suspect and probe deeply.

"There's no point to it, mortal—you are mine. You will do what I say. What's more, you will agree with me."

"I—no, this new Avatar is someone's child as well, confined to the same role as my son was—"

"The girl's fate is unfortunate, but she will not stand in my way, _our _way. Perhaps you could find a way to make the end easy for her, but it matters not. All that matters is that you obey _**me**_."

Amon grabbed his head, fingers curling in the hood's fabric. It pounded. It hurt. It tore. It was not a welcome pain.

"Shhh, it will all become clear to you—it's _already_ become clear to you, you're just having second thoughts—understandable for a mortal such as yourself…."

Amon shook in Koh's embrace. It still parodied comfort.

"Now go," Koh hissed, and Amon fell into the pool.

###

At first Amon felt choked in the air of the mortal world. It was too oppressive. Is this how spirits felt in the mortal world all the time? But eventually Amon did readjust to his old home.

He had admired the radio, the Satomobiles, all the new technology Koh had let him see in the spirit cave's vision-pool. To see and use it in person was genuinely wonderful.

But to look at Aang's statue in-person, even from afar and through a telescope, had simply hurt. He had never truly met his son, but the statue looked wrong. Too solemn. Despite everything, Aang had retained his joy. Shouldn't that have been respected? Amon felt anger that was all his own return. As if the world had any respect for his son, broiled in inequality as it was; Aang, who had saved that world, who had respected all life, even that of his enemy….

Amon reviewed Koh's commands. He had not demanded death per se, except for one. Amon removed bending, but did not kill the newly made nonbenders. But Koh's command was insistent on the new Avatar's destruction.

To be inside Aang's memorial statue was suffocating, more than his first re-entry into the mortal world. Yet Amon knew the Avatar girl was struggling to breathe, not to faint, so intense was her terror. Terror Amon had wrought. Terror that repulsed him...and yet on one level it soothed him, in a way. Amon knew terror well. It was somewhat of a novelty still to inspire it in someone else. And it felt like even before and definitely after losing his face to Koh that he had no power, and now he could go a long time fooling himself into believing he did have control...

But Aang had done no such thing, had struggled against such things; Sumalee would have cursed him out, furious and disappointed; and Amon felt Korra's fear further suffocate him. The mortal world had shrunk to this tiny circle of light that held him and the girl, and this world too was breathless. Amon craved air.

"I will destroy you."

_And I will be sorry for it._

Amon knocked the girl unconscious, Koh laughing in his mind. Koh was always there.

_Do not fret, mortal_, Koh whispered inside Amon's mind. _It will bother you less, in time._ _I promise._

Unfortunately, Amon believed him.

**A/N: As TVTropes would say, Amon's kinda under More Than Mind Control here. Used the name Sumalee as that's the first name of the VA of this character Arcee that Steve Blum's Starscream has great scenes with in "Transformers Prime."**


End file.
